Forever Fernanda
by ibelieveinguardianangels
Summary: Fernanda Ramirez was a typical 18 year old. Until she found herself being pursued by a gang. With the help of Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson, Fernanda has to dodge life-threatening situations and keep herself out of the trouble that seemed to be following her. All while trying to explain everything to the detective and his flatmate.
1. Introduction

_**Forever Fernanda **_**is just a trial story. This is just a short introduction; I'd love to know if it would be red should I continue it.**

Forever Fernanda

**Introduction**

Fernanda felt there was no escape. Panic filled her chest. She had to get away, she just had to. It felt as though the walls were closing in on her, her chest clenched, her heart pounding painfully against her ribcage; the flames were following her down the halls, trapping her at every turn. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Tears of anguish, of pain; of fear. Soot darkened her beautiful, blonde hair that cascaded down her back, sweat from exertion and panic leaked into the injuries that littered her face sending a burning sensation through her injuries that matched the heat following her as she meandered through the building, looking, panic-stricken, for an exit, a way to escape the blaze. She could feel the world around her swimming, her vision blurred as she fought not to be taken in and imprisoned by the flames.

She felt cold hands clasp at her bare arms, a welcomed contrast from the blazing heat that appeared to be constantly close on her tail; a deep voice spoke, but her ears felt as though they were bunged up, her senses scrambled. Her beautiful azure eyes were red-rimmed as tears continued to roll down her cheeks, she felt herself being pulled backwards and flailed her arms and legs, terrified the flame were engulfing her, weighing her down. She gasped in surprise as cold air hit her face and body, making her burns sting. She blinked against the harsh, flashing light as she determined as the emergency services. Painful coughs escaped her chest as she felt a second pair of hands on her. She felt her legs moving underneath her, his eyes closing against the painful flashing lights as she was led towards them.

"I'm Doctor Watson," The body attached to the second pair of hands introduced himself in a higher voice than the first as she was lowered into a soft seat, a mask placed over her nose and mouth with a smell similar to felt-tip pens, the scent reminding her of her childhood. She felt the surface below her begin to move and soon enough she was lulled to sleep by the rocking, thankful to be out of the blaze.

**Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. **

**ibelieveinguardianangels**


	2. Chapter 1

**Here is the first 'real' chapter of the story. This is my first attempt at a multi-chapter Sherlock fic, so I'm not entirely sure how this is going to turn out. I have a few ideas, but I'm open to suggestions. **

**Apologies for any mistakes.**

**Chapter 1 **

After a frustratingly uneventful and tediously long day at the surgery, John was thankful to get home; he was thoroughly looking forward to slipping off his shoes, putting his stocking feet up and having a nice, steaming cup of tea. He hadn't expected to enter his shared apartment and find his flatmate upside down on the sofa, his hands holding his weight as his black curls rested on the carpet, his legs on the sofa and his shirt riding up, revealing the pale skin of the base of his back.

What on earth are you _doing_?" The doctor questioned, shrugging off his coat and hanging it beside Sherlock's; he dumped his work bag on his chair and leant against the back of it, watching his, unusual, friend.

"Bored." Came Sherlock's unimpressed reply, his speech muffled by the bottom of the sofa.

"What?" John asked, running his left hand over his face as he let out an exasperated breath at the childlike antics.

"M'bored!" Sherlock exclaimed, pushing himself up so he could see his flatmate, "Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored!"

"Well," John huffed, already frustrated with his friend's childishness, "Why not find something constructive to do? Watch the television," He caught the detective's glare at the suggestion, "or conduct an experiment. Why don't you phone Lestrade and see if he has any cases for you."

"I've solved Lestrade's case," Sherlock sighed, "it was murder. Poison." He elaborated. "Injected by a doctor. Now I'm bored." Sherlock groaned, laying his head down again and rolling forward so he was sitting on the floor facing the doctor. He opened his mouth to complain again when he was interrupted by his phone chiming, signalling a call. "Lestrade," He informed John, accepting the call and holding the phone to his ear. He jumped from his seat moments later and collected the coats, thrusting John's towards him before tugging on his own black one, finishing the look with his navy scarf and shoes.

"Case?" John questioned.

"Obviously." Sherlock stated, "Put on your coat. I'll hail a cab." John shrugged into the coat he had only vacated minutes earlier and charged down the stairs, letting the door close behind him. He followed Sherlock into the street, diving into the cab he was sitting in.

"Well?" He questioned, looking expectantly towards the detective.

"Fernanda Ramirez," Sherlock began, "18. She was reported missing two weeks ago,"

"Yea," John nodded, "I remember reading about it in the newspaper."

"The coat that she was wearing when she went missing has just been found in an abandoned hardware store, it was buried in the debris from a fire that was started there early this afternoon. Lestrade has a hunch that the fire was an arson attempt to kill the girl. But, there's currently no sign of her. Only her jacket." Sherlock explained, "A 7." He relaxed back into the seat, smiling slightly. "Wonderful."

"Sherlock." John shook his head in warning.

"What?" Sherlock questioned, furrowing his eyebrows.

"A girl is missing." John stated. "Wonderful is not a term you should be using." The cab pulled up at the scene, fire services still there speaking with Anderson close to the remains of what was once an important part of trade. John clambered out of the taxi behind Sherlock, tossing a few 10 pound notes into the front seat beside the driver to cover the fare.

"Ah, Sherlock, John." Detective Inspector Lestrade greeted the pair as they reached him, turning on his heel and walking the second they caught up with him, clearly not wanting to be wasting any time. He waited patiently for Sherlock to pull on a pair of latex gloves before he held out the piece of evidence. A bright pink mock-leather jacket. Sherlock reached out, taking the coat from Lestrade, the chains and zips jingled as he inspected it.

"Fashionable." He mumbled, "But fake. Can't afford real leather but doesn't want to fall behind on the trends, clearly she cares about her appearance. But why would she have left it? Oh!" Sherlock exclaimed as he was hit with a revelation, his eyes flitting towards what was once a building, "She was living here. She must have been. She didn't 'go missing'. She ran away from home. But why? Why would she have run away from home?"

Sherlock directed his gaze at the DI who was sporting a very blank expression, clearly expecting the consulting detective to provide him with the answer to the question. Sherlock sighed, returning his gaze to John.

"We need to visit her family." He stated, handing the coat back to Lestrade. "We need her address."

**Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it, please let me know what you thought. Suggestions are welcome. **

**ibelieveinguardianangels**


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

**Here's chapter two. Please, let me know what you think, because I've no idea if the continuation is any good or not. **

Fernanda's family home was a stunning, large house with a metal balcony painted with a panther black overcoat. The front garden was decorated with a rainbow of coloured flowers and a large apple tree which was resting in the corner, dropping fruits, clearly ready to be used. John couldn't help but feel slightly intimidated by the size of the house as he followed Sherlock up the garden path and towards the front door that was surrounded by textured glass. They passed through a white rose-coated arch and stepped up the step towards the front door, standing on the welcome mat as Sherlock rang the bell, listening to the chime echoing throughout the house.

The thick, wooden door was pulled open with a creak, a beautiful woman standing in the doorway, her eyes searching over the detective and his doctor with a curious gaze. Sherlock politely removed his black glove, holding out his right hand towards the lady. She tugged, nervously on her black and white dress before accepting the outstretched hand and shaking it.

"Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective." Sherlock introduced himself before gesturing to his friend momentarily prior to removing his left glove and tucking them into the pockets of his large black coat, "This is Doctor John Watson, my colleague. May we come in?" The woman, stunned, stepped aside, allowing the two men into her home. She clumsily gestured towards the front room, Sherlock took the hint and made his way through, John following him.

"Please, please," The lady began, "take a seat, make yourselves comfortable. My name is Patrycja." She introduced herself and John and Sherlock took a seat on the sofa side by side. "Tea?" Patrycja questioned, apparently recovering from her momentary shock.

"Oh, yes please," John smiled, "that would be lovely. Milk. No sugar."

"I'd prefer coffee." Sherlock stated, "Black. Two sugars."

"Thank you." John added for the pair of them, seemingly as an afterthought.

Sherlock gazed around the room as Patrycja left to retrieve the beverages, his eyes falling on a number of family photographs, a young female with beautiful, long blonde hair and a round face; Sherlock recognised her from the photographs Lestrade had shown him that had been released when her disappearance had been publicised.

"Tea," Repeated the woman, entering the room, she handed a polka dotted cup to John, "and coffee." She handed a stripy cup to Sherlock.

"We're here about Fernanda Ramirez," John began after sipping his tea gratefully, watching as the woman sat on the sofa opposite them.

"Oh Fernanda," The lady gasped, "my lovely Fernanda."

"We've been assigned to the case," Sherlock explained, placing his mug onto the coaster on the coffee table in front of him, "there was a fire at a local hardware store yesterday afternoon. The forensic team discovered the pink mock-leather jacket that Fernanda was seen wearing the day she disappeared." He continued, resting his elbows on his legs and turning to face the lady. "We're here to discuss the events leading up to her disappearance."

**Thanks for reading. **

**ibelieveinguardianangels**


	4. Chapter 3

**Here's chapter 3. I hope its okay. It seems to be moving a little too fast. What do you think?**

**Sorry about any mistakes.**

Chapter 3

"We'd been arguing," Mumbled Patrycja, turning her attention to John as he tugged his notebook out of his pocket, left-handedly noting down key information, "She'd been coming home late,"

_"It's 1:30am and pitch black outside, Fernanda. Where have you been?" Patrycja questioned when her daughter entered the living room. Ever since her 18th birthday, the girl seemed to think that it was perfectly acceptable to be returning home in the early hours of the morning, keeping her poor mother awake for hours on end worrying about her whereabouts, panicking about her wellbeing. "You cannot keep this behaviour up!" The girl cocked an eyebrow, folding her arms across her chest and dropping her weight onto her left leg. _

_"This rebellious streak cannot continue, Fernanda," Sighed Patrycja, watching as her daughter shrugged off the horrific pink jacket her boyfriend had purchased for her birthday; she threw it over the back of the sofa and slipped off her expensive high heels, reaching down and massaging her sore feet. Turning on her heel, Fernanda headed towards the staircase, stepping onto the bottom step, her left foot rising to the step higher as her mother followed, her voice stopping her in her tracks. _

_"Don't even think about ignoring me, Fernanda. I'm getting fed up of your attitude. You cannot waltz in here in the early hours of the morning as though you own the place. You haven't even told me where you've been!" Patrycja stated, watching her daughter turn towards her. _

_"You haven't stopped running your mouth since I came in. I - how could I have told you?" Fernanda watch her mother's eyes become dangerously dark, but now she had started, she found she couldn't stop. "I don't need to keep you notified of my whereabouts every second of the day. I'm not a child anymore, you cannot keep tabs on me!" Fernanda turned, her blonde hair, tied up in a pony-tail, flicking as she did so, and stormed up the stairs, her mother hot on her tail. Entering her bedroom, she turned to close the door but it bounced back towards her, rebounding off her mother's foot. _

_"Do not close the door on me, Fernanda," Patrycja warned, following her daughter into the bedroom, "I want you to sit down and I want you to listen." Fernanda huffed but obeyed, dropping onto the end of her bed, her frilly cushions falling with the force. "Yes, you are 18. But whilst you are in my house, under my care, you will follow_ my_ rules, do you understand?" _

_"Stop trying to treat me like a child." Fernanda hissed "I'm not two!" _

_"If you were two I'm sure you'd be better behaved." Patrycja folded her arms across her chest, mimicking her daughter's earlier stance, "You cannot, I - I will not have you prancing around the streets without telling me where you are. Anything could happen to you and I wouldn't know, because you left your mobile phone on the sofa." _

_"Just leave it." Fernanda huffed, her eyes flitting towards the window, the moon shining through the open curtains, casting a dim glow through her bedroom, lighting up the homework that sat mockingly on the desk beside the window. _

"Boring!" Sherlock interrupted. "You argued about her breaking curfew, she got frustrated, stormed out of the house and when she didn't reappear within 24 hours, you reported her missing." Sherlock finished the story for her, catching the glare John was sending him.

**Thank you for reading. What do you think? **

**ibelieveinguardianangels**


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